


my last chance to feel human

by daisyjohnsons



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post Season 2/Pre Season 3, doc titled "its not adultery if its in space", for anyone looking at these tags im so sorry, i genuinely dont know how to tag stuff, i had an idea for this after an angry cry session and it wouldnt leave me alone until i wrote it, is this technically hurt comfort i have no idea, this is an official petition to let me do italics in the summary, you know what im putting hurt comfort i dont care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyjohnsons/pseuds/daisyjohnsons
Summary: God. God fucking damnit. She hears Lovelace say her name everyday but she never says it like that. God, Minkowski has a husband. She can’t think about things like this, about the way Lovelace’s voice sounds like a quiet symphony when she says her name, about how deep and slow her voice was as Minkowski rolled off her tongue.or, after Eiffel goes MIA, there's more than enough tension on the USS Hephaestus and it's only a matter of time before someone snaps.
Relationships: Isabel Lovelace/Renée Minkowski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	my last chance to feel human

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this at 3am and it feels like a fever dream so if there's anything wrong blame 3am me. anyways. minlace canon i dont care about the husband. just think of me as that troll from the first frozen thats like "her quote engagement is a flex arrangement" except its "her quote marriage is bullshit no more dominik" anyways part two. enjoy.

Minkowski knows violence shouldn’t be the answer. 

Keyword,  _ shouldn’t _ . 

Order is supposed to be the answer; it’s the answer she projects, the answer she strives for. She follows protocol and follows the rules and doesn’t  _ dare _ to toe the line and everything is supposed to be  _ fine _ .

Keywords, supposed to be.

But then again, violence has order as well. War has rules. Experienced fighters have technique. Her fists make something of a rhythm when they hit the punching bag. 

The point being, chaos can be given rules. Rules make things easier. Easier is better. So why doesn’t she _fucking_ _feel better?_

Her knuckles have long since split. She can feel the cuts beneath her wrist wraps and she knows this means she’s been at it for too long and she can’t bring herself to  _ stop _ , because whenever she stops for more than a second, she hears the explosion that sent Eiffel flying from the Hephaestus. Whenever she stops for more than a second, she hears Eiffel’s panicked cry of  _ Commander _ . Whenever she stops for more than a second, she hears Hera say  _ he’s gone _ .

So she can’t stop.

She can’t stop and she can’t move forward because moving forward means following protocol and following protocol means cleaning out Eiffel’s room and cleaning out Eiffel’s room means admitting he’s  _ gone _ and that she  _ failed _ and that she failed  _ him _ and—

She can’t stop. 

And so, violence becomes the answer. 

A vicious kick makes her leg burn but it sends the bag flying and it should make her feel satisfied. Watching herself send that bag flying usually makes her feel satisfied. But she feels nothing. Nothing but the splits in her skin under her wraps and the burn of her muscles and she likes it this way. If she makes herself avoid thinking too deeply, she can pretend that doing this makes her feel better. 

It doesn’t, of course. Nothing does. Nothing will. 

Nothing except Eiffel miraculously coming back and laughing and making a joke about how his experience was just like some movie plotline. 

In other words, nothing will ever be okay again.

The next punch makes her wrist burn and she stumbles back for a moment, holding her wrist to her chest with a hiss. She feels for anything out of place or broken before shaking it out and moving to throw another punch. A hand lands on her shoulder before she can. 

Minkowski reacts without thinking, grabbing the wrist the hand belongs to and twisting it over her head as she turns. She hears a small yelp and her brain starts functioning again as she realizes she just almost broke Lovelace’s wrist. Minkowski’s eyes go wide and she stumbles back, letting go of Lovelace’s wrist as she moves. “I-uh. Lovelace! Sorry.”

Lovelace rolls her eyes as she shakes her wrist out. “My fault. Should’ve known better than to surprise Commander Renée Minkowski when she’s obviously angry.”

Minkowski ignores the way her heart skips a beat when Lovelace says  _ Renée _ as she moves back into position to start punching again. “I’m not angry.”

Probably not the best thing to say; she can almost  _ hear  _ the raised eyebrow when Lovelace speaks. “Right. Because you do this when you’re  _ not _ feeling angry.”

Minkowski huffs as she throws a punch. It’s the same wrist that burned earlier and it burns still as she hits the bag, but she ignores it. 

“Minkowski.”

She ignores her.  _ Hit. Hit, hit. Hit, hit, hit. _

“ _ Minkowski _ .”

She stops the bag as it swings before turning around. “ _ What,  _ Lovelace?” It’s only after she snaps that she realizes just how close they are. She hadn’t realized just how much taller Lovelace is than her; she has to tilt her head back a little to look her in the eyes. Lovelace has at least two inches on her and Minkowski tries not to think  _ too _ deeply about how much she likes that. 

“You’re going to break that wrist. I know you well enough to see you’re pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

“You don’t know me,” Minkowski snaps, trying to turn back around. Lovelace grabs her wrist and she has to bite her lip to keep from letting out a yelp and when she looks back at Lovelace, she can see the smirk that lets her know Lovelace knew exactly what wrist she was grabbing. “ _ Lovelace _ .” She means it to be a warning; doesn’t mean for it to sound so desperate.

Lovelace seems thrown for a second. She looks at Minkowski’s face, but doesn’t make eye contact until Minkowski tilts her head. When she does, it’s like a spell fades from Lovelace’s eyes. Or maybe it’s like a spell was just cast. Either way, Minkowski  _ feels  _ when she sees the look in her eyes. “Minkowski.”

_ God. God fucking damnit. _ She hears Lovelace say her name everyday but she never says it like  _ that _ .  _ God _ , Minkowski has a  _ husband _ . She can’t think about things like this, about the way Lovelace’s voice sounds like a quiet symphony when she says her name, about how deep and slow her voice was as  _ Minkowski  _ rolled off her tongue. 

She takes a breath. Steps closer. “Lovelace.”

Lovelace definitely isn’t looking at her eyes anymore. “Minkowski.”

“ _ Lovelace, _ ” Lovelace’s eyes fly wide when she says it and Minkowski takes another step forward, fingers lightly touching the wrist that isn’t holding hers like a lifeline. “Lovelace, stop me.”

Lovelace sucks in a breath. “And if I don’t want to? What are you going to do about that, Commander?”

“Stop talking,” Minkowski almost snarls as she shoves Lovelace back as quickly as she can to the nearest wall, stepping as close as she can without kissing her, letting their noses touch. 

Lovelace smirks, although it takes her a few seconds to look away from what Minkowski just realized is her lips. “Let’s make a deal: I’ll stop talking if you kiss me.” She pauses in between words and Minkowski thinks she’s nervous. 

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re the one who pushed me into a wall. Now, do we have a—”

The kiss is almost painful and their teeth clack together from how furiously Minkowski kisses her, but when she lightens up ever so softly and Lovelace tilts her head ever so slightly and  _ oh—  _

_ This is adultery _ , a part of her brain screams.  _ Dominik doesn’t deserve this _ .

It is overcome by another part of her brain that can’t feel or think of anything beyond the way Lovelace’s fingers curl in her hair while her other hand toys with the end of Minkowski’s shirt. This part of her brain can’t think of doing anything but kissing Lovelace again and again, of doing anything but clinging to her waist like it’s a lifeline. And maybe it is. This feels too much like coming  _ alive _ for the soft skin beneath Minkowski’s fingers to not be an anchor to what’s left of her life. It feels like being set on fire. It feels like being thrown into Wolf 359 itself. It feels like she is a phoenix, burning and burning and with every touch of Lovelace’s lips, being reborn.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Minkowski manages to mutter against Lovelace’s lips. “I’m not angry. Not entirely. I’m just—” Her breath catches in her throat and she trails off, unable to finish the thought.

Lovelace pauses for the span of a long breath that makes Minkowski shudder when it moves across her lips. The next kiss she presses to Minkowski’s lips is softer, gentler, and somehow more world shattering than the first. She pulls back slightly and gently caresses Minkowski’s cheek before pulling her fingers through Minkowski’s hair, uncovering her neck. The next kiss is a kiss to the corner of her lips, the next to her jaw, the next her pulse point. She lingers, here, kisses it again. “I know. Me too.”

The darkness in her eyes, the melodic deepness of her voice, the way her fingers dig into Minkowski’s shoulders. There’s a number of things that factor into Minkowski using her grip on Lovelace’s waist to turn them around and press her own back against the wall. There’s a number of things that factor into her grabbing Lovelace by the back of the neck and pulling her down to kiss her again. But none as powerful as the fact that this is the first time Minkowski has felt anything but grief since Eiffel disappeared. 

And yeah, maybe nothing will be okay as long as the man she’d begun to think of as her brother is gone, but when Lovelace smirks into the kiss before biting down on Minkowski’s lip, she thinks that maybe violence  _ can _ be the answer, as long as it is the cruel bite of nails on her skin, the bitter taste of blood in her mouth, and the way she knows she would kill to be able to keep kissing Lovelace like this. Maybe nothing will ever be okay again, but with Lovelace’s hands under her shirt and the freedom to kiss her until they’re forced apart by whatever emergency comes next, Minkowski can’t find it in herself to mind. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/isabelovelace) if you want to scream with me about minlace or wolf 359 in general!!


End file.
